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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303023">I Know That You're Home (When You're With Me)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthesounds/pseuds/lostinthesounds'>lostinthesounds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Ark! Bellarke, Bellarke, Bellarke have a baby, Canon, F/M, Fluff, Just A Bunch Of Sweet And Fluff Stories, Mix Of Modern/Canon One Shots, Modern, My First One Shot Collection, Nerds In Love I Swear, Protective Clarke!, Protective! Bellamy, Season Seven Speculation?, Tags To Change As I Update, lots of fluff, that's right!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:02:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthesounds/pseuds/lostinthesounds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A series of Bellarke one-shots that illustrate their love for each other in modern or canon universes.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Beat Of My Heart (part one)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've been thinking about this idea of a one-shot collection for ages, and now that I'm indesicive about what fics to start writing or continue writing I just wanted to experiment with a ton of prompts that could give me inspiration. I have no idea who would actually read this, but I have so many ideas to write for one-shots. I hope you enjoy, feel free to leave comments or kudos to appreciate me! It means the world, and this is gonna be so much fun. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Clarke?”  </p><p> </p><p>There she was, swaying her hips to the hum of the songs playing out of a jukebox that’s slowly breaking down with alien antennas on her head. She didn’t need to be told that she looks crazy but as she locked eyes with a pleasantly surprised Bellamy Blake, he looked at her like she hung the stars in the midnight sky. [Bellarke In Roswell: New Mexico]</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Clarke hasn't been back in Arkadia in ten years after losing her sister Josephine in a car accident, and in a tourist town that's convinced that aliens exist, she thinks that's the only shock she'll get by being back home. </p><p>She gets pulled over by the towns sheriff Bellamy Blake, the boy she liked in high school. </p><p>And then she thinks she gets shot and almost dies, but he tells her otherwise when she awakes in his arms.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arkadia looked the same, Clarke thought. You would think that being gone for ten years would make home seem more welcoming, but all she felt was dread. </p><p>
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</p><p>She would look through her rearview mirror and see a couple of teenagers getting stopped and frisked for having bulky jean pockets, or look through her passenger side mirror to see a few men getting pulled over for having ziploc bags stuffed into bags or compartments in their cars. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Too many men that reminded her of the innocence of people that looked like Wells or her old friend from high school, Raven Reyes. It was like the town never changed since she left, and she couldn’t say that she came easy just because her father asked for her to come back. </p><p>
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</p><p>It was just her luck that she would get pulled over in the midst of a crime scene at the town lines of Arkadia, and she realized that she forgot how the infamous red and blue flashing lights would be irritating her eyes in the middle of the night. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Oh great,” She mumbled under her breath, slowing her car down so the cops could see that she had no part in any of this. The streets were narrow already, so she couldn’t get through without one of the three Sheriff cars being in the way and she really wasn’t in the mood to scratch up her car tonight. </p><p>
  
</p><p>The trip from Polis had already taken most of her energy, and she just wanted to relax and stretch out her muscles from the long drive. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Then, a single cop turns around from his conversation to acknowledge her car and she holds onto the small bit of hope that he’s one of the good guys. She had a strong resentment towards the police in her town, because nobody did anything when Josephine died and it was like every aspect of this small and eerie town reminded Clarke of what was brutally taken from her. </p><p>
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</p><p>If her father wasn’t still living here, she would’ve left the memory of Josephine behind a long time ago. She’s already spent the last ten years trying to forget it ever happened. </p><p>
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</p><p>The cop flipped the notepad in his hands, face hidden under his beige wide-brimmed hat when he excused himself from the conversation to lead Clarke to an empty parking spot. She didn’t want to ask questions about the crime scene, because it was easy to understand that a shattered glass front of a jewelry store meant someone had robbed the place. </p><p>
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</p><p>Once she parked, Clarke sighs and rolls down her window with a firm press of a button. She really didn’t want to be asked a bunch of questions, if she was just passing through. </p><p> </p><p>She only starts talking once the cop comes to a halt next to her car. Clarke doesn’t waste time in reaching over her middle console to unlock her passenger side compartment, trying to dig for her state ID that she stored there years ago. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“I know you’re trying to protect everyone by blocking traffic with those blinding lights you love to sport around in this small town,” Clarke rambled, groaning when she feels the leather of her sunglasses case rather than the envelope that holds her registration papers. She knew that she stuffed the ID in the envelope after she left, and continued. “But, I’m just trying to get to the diner and being that—” </p><p>
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</p><p>“Ma’am, I’m not—” </p><p>
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</p><p>“<em>Look</em> obviously I’m in no rush and definitely wouldn’t come back to the place I just robbed if I stole whatever was stolen so, I’m not your girl.” </p><p>
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</p><p>She huffed, tugging at her seatbelt to give her more access to move when she found the envelope she was looking for. Seriously what did she keep in there that it’s taking her this long? Sighing in relief once she feels the small card at the very bottom, she pulls it out and extends her hand out to the officer so he could identify her while she shuts the compartment. </p><p>
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</p><p>The officer takes the card from her hands, “Clarke Griffin?” </p><p>
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</p><p>It’s been ages since she’s heard someone say her name with such awe, like she should be a person worth remembering. Worth loving like—Clarke turns her head so fast that she’s afraid she’s hallucinating who’s actually in front of her. The officer said her name like she was worth loving, and suddenly she feels like she’s eighteen all over again. Because the only person who said her name like that was Bellamy Blake. </p><p>
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</p><p>And he was in front of her, taking off his hat so he could make sure he isn’t going crazy too. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Bellamy?” Her eyes widened, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. </p><p>
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</p><p>“You’re back,” He says, and the pain laced in the undertone of his voice makes her adjust uncomfortably in her seat. She tears her gaze away from his intense eyes once the shock begins to wear off, but he doesn’t stop there. He says in awe, “It’s been ten years.” </p><p>
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</p><p>Clarke drapes her loose braid to her other shoulder, trying to find comfort in her past coming back as soon as she passes Arkadia lines. It was like she would never escape the girl she left behind.  </p><p>
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</p><p>“I thought it was time I come back,” She tells him, biting on her lip when he hands back her ID. She was itching to get away, “Just to see my dad for a while.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“So you aren’t staying?” He suggests, brows raised. </p><p>
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</p><p>Of course, he would ask her that. </p><p>
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</p><p>“I think it’s best if I don’t,” Clarke lets her fingers drum against the wheel, avoiding the look of disappointment on Bellamy’s face. She doesn’t want to give a reason, so she decided on telling the small truth. “I have work to get back to in a few days.” </p><p>
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</p><p>Bellamy clicks his tongue with a blank stare, avoiding her curious eyes. He grew out his beard? </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Do me a favor and say goodbye before you go, alright?” </p><p>
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</p><p>He walked away before she had the chance to answer, but Clarke knew she would be held accountable. If she was back in Arkadia, then Bellamy Blake should know which places she would be hiding or spending her time at. He should know where her father’s diner is like the back of his hand. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Clarke hadn’t seen her dad since her graduation four years ago. Now, as she hugged him tightly and admired the increased amount of grey hair on his head without looking through a camera; she realized how much she missed him. </p><p>
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</p><p>She missed his sweet scent and messy aprons that he never would wash, and his warm smile that always made her feel like she was ten years old and safe in his arms. She had dropped her suitcase in the staff room, so after her midnight chat with her father she would be able to go upstairs to his apartment and back to her old bedroom from high school. She couldn’t lie, this was the part of the night that she’s been forcing out of her mind. </p><p>
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</p><p>The last time she was in her room, she had turned it upside in rage and clutter. She didn’t even remember if she made her bed, or hung up her high school graduation gown in her closet. Clarke avoided Josephine’s part of their room for the days following her death, and her father would argue about her room not being clean. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that her closet was on Josephine’s side, and she couldn’t make it past her nightstand before she started to cry. </p><p>
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</p><p>Her father also liked to pretend that she couldn’t hear him crying at night, because he lost his daughter and his wife in a span of months. Clarke didn’t know, and would never understand why he never wants to leave Arkadia. It holds a world of bad memories for the both of them. </p><p>
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</p><p>“I missed you a lot, sweetheart.” Her father tells her, wiping down the counters with a wet rag as she twirled her straw in the chocolate milkshake he had given her. He sighs, “I’m glad you’re home now.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Did you forget that I told you to come with me?” Clarke shrugged, thinking back to the last conversation she had with him around two weeks ago. He had described the vandalism on the banners outside of the shop, and how they’ve been getting more aggressive lately. It was the last straw for her, the situation worrying her to no end. She takes a sip of her milkshake, “Polis is another small neighborhood like this with families and local shops. It’s also one of the best neighborhoods in California.” </p><p>
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</p><p>It’s also where she’s been living for the past two years. She’s told her father repeatedly to join her and get away from the people who hate her family for something her father never had control of. It was Josephine's fault for being reckless that night, for killing her two friends in a car accident. </p><p>
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</p><p>“This is where I want to be,” Her father says, laying the rag over his shoulder as he dries his hands on his apron. The dimly lit diner makes the honesty in his brown eyes more recognizable to Clarke, and she doesn’t want to fight with him on this right now. “And what would I do without this diner?"</p><p>
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</p><p>“You could be happy with your daughter in California and own your own diner over there.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“Wouldn’t that be your dream?” Her father jokes, walking around the employee side of the counter to meet his daughter on the other side. He takes his daughter’s face in his hands and kisses her forehead, “This diner is mine, Clarke. It’s somewhere I’ll always think of as home.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Clarke couldn’t help but smile, feeling happy to be with her family again. She could try to persuade him another day, but she couldn’t get this moment back if she ruined it. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Fine,” She says. “But, I’ll clean up down here while you go rest.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“I just started to clean, Clarke.” Her father argued, pulling away. “The diner closed twenty minutes ago.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“And?” She reaches up to start combing through her hair to pull back into a high ponytail with the hair tie around her wrist. Then, she quickly takes off her jacket. “What’s the point in having kids if they won’t work for you?” </p><p>
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</p><p>Her father laughs, “You had a hard time with cleaning this place when you actually worked here.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“I was seventeen, dad.” Clarke points out, not accepting the blame on herself. She definitely wasn’t a problem. “I’m offering to do it now, so please,” She paused, taking her father by the shoulders and pushing him towards the staff room so he could leave despite his protests. “Go to sleep.” </p><p>
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</p><p>She hasn’t been a true daughter in four years, it was the least she could do. A small part of her actually missed <em>The Dropship</em>, because once upon a time, it was the place where she smiled the most. The place that made her the happiest. </p><p>
  
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</p><p>It hadn’t even been ten minutes before the chime of the door alerted her to someone walking into the diner, and she was too busy playing around with the jukebox playlist that she could only call out to whoever came in. “I’m sorry but the shop is closed—” </p><p>
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</p><p>“Clarke?”  </p><p>
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</p><p>There she was, swaying her hips to the hum of the songs playing out of a jukebox that’s slowly breaking down with alien antennas on her head. She didn’t need to be told that she looks crazy but as she locked eyes with a pleasantly surprised Bellamy Blake, he looked at her like she hung the stars in the midnight sky. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Maybe, just <em>maybe</em>, she missed the feeling he gave her. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Bellamy?” Her cheeks blush red, as her backside stumbles into the jukebox. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Don’t stop on my account,” He surrenders his hands in the air, a smile growing across his lips as he walks towards her. Bellamy must’ve gotten off his shift now, because he was still in his Sheriff uniform (why didn’t she notice earlier?) and his beige hat was held in his hands. She smiled herself, finally getting a good look at his black curls that flattened on top of his head. </p><p>
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</p><p>She liked them better when they were messy, but she would wait to tell him. </p><p>
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</p><p>“What are you doing here?” She asks, walking behind the counter when he takes a seat at a bar stool in front of the cashier. “It’s late.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“I could ask you the same thing,” </p><p>
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</p><p>“I live here, Bellamy.” Clarke points out with the intent to let him know that his argument was weak and that she was well aware of the fact as to why he showed up in the first place. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Right.” He chuckled nervously, setting his hat down next to him. He was cute when he was nervous, at least she remembered that about him. “I just wanted to see you, so is that a good enough excuse to let me stay?” </p><p>
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</p><p>Clarke felt her heart stutter, taking notice that maybe her teenage crush hadn’t gone away after all. She leans forward on her elbows, taunting him as revenge for how he makes her feel. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Staring at me is gonna get boring pretty fast,” She perks up at her own attempt at flirting, and moves away from him. She decides on the ice cream machine, turning her back to grab one red cup and adjust the knob to pouring out the vanilla flavor. “So will you stay for a free milkshake on the house?” </p><p>
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</p><p>“You don’t even have to ask.” </p><p>
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</p><p>When she hands him the milkshake, she feels the need to tell him “I didn’t add any cherries cause I know you hate them,” when he takes multiple sips of his shake that’s topped with whipped cream. Clarke knows it won’t fix anything between them, or the fact that she was the one that left for ten years without saying goodbye to the boy that she liked, or that both of them have changed into adults. </p><p>
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</p><p>He was the Sheriff of their small town, for god’s sake. She was a doctor now, not the same nerdy passionate overprotective sister that Bellamy must think she still is. Clarke remembered a simple detail about him, and he must’ve appreciated the fact that she did, because he’s suddenly reaching to grab her hand to squeeze. </p><p>
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</p><p>“I missed having you around,” He admits, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her palm from across the counter. She’s done fighting herself about what to do, on how to act around him, so she rounds the counter and meets him on the other side. He grabs her hand again, wishing she wouldn’t leave again. </p><p>
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</p><p>Every time she looks at him, she wishes she was eighteen again. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Don’t go all soft on me,” Clarke warns playfully, taking a seat next to him. Their knees graze when he turns to face her, “Drink your shake before it melts.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“It’s already melted ice cream.” Bellamy’s brows furrow together, arguing the obvious. </p><p>
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</p><p>But, she wouldn’t let him win. “It’s better than melted ice cream, thank you very much.” </p><p><strong><br/><br/></strong>“You’re right,” Bellamy nodded. “It’s better because you made it for me.” </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t need to be a tease like that, if she had the courage to admit that to his face. His voice had gotten deeper over the years, and it did something to her. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Can I ask you something?” She says, the question popping into her mind as she grabs the milkshake from his hand so she could hold it. The tension had begun to build between them again, and it made her comfortable to hold something cold. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Are you gonna ask me to share the milkshake? I thought your favorite flavor was chocolate.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“Oh, you’re right.” Clarke agreed, holding eye contact with him as she grabbed the straw to take a sip of his vanilla milkshake. “But vanilla is a close second.” </p><p>
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</p><p>Bellamy can’t take his eyes off of her, and he inches closer until his face is inches away from hers. She could feel him breathing against her nose, and it makes her head spin. </p><p>
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</p><p>“What’s the real question?” His voice lowers, almost into a whisper. He looks up at the ridiculous antennas on her head, “Are you gonna ask me If I caught any aliens lately?” </p><p>
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</p><p>Clarke laughed, “We both know it’s a hoax. The thought that aliens really do exist just because a UFO crashed here sixty years ago? It’s crazy.” She remembered the story that her parents told her when she was a child, the myth of aliens. “It also brings customers to the diner, so I can’t hate it that much.” </p><p>
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</p><p>They named the crash site, Sanctum, just because the UFO crashed here a few miles west of town. In her eyes, she had always been a skeptic because the crash happened during World War Two and so many new advances in technology had been popping up everywhere—and she’d always believed that the supposed UFO was a test flight gone wrong. </p><p>
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</p><p>Arkadia had been profiting off the myth for years, decades, as tourists come in and out of the infamous alien-invested town. It was also one of the reasons why she left. It was because of the lies from Josephine, her drug addict of a mother, and her own neighborhood. </p><p>
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</p><p>She was sick of it. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“That’s great,” Bellamy sighs of relief, huffing to show his annoyance with the subject. “Because I didn’t want to explain to another person that aliens don’t exist.” </p><p>
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</p><p>Clarke gives him the side eye glance, wondering how many times he’s had to have that conversation with someone. She wants to feel sorry for him, but he wasn’t someone who wanted to leave this town either. Like her father, Bellamy must feel attached to the life he had. No matter how difficult it got, he would stay. </p><p>
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</p><p>She fought the envy growing inside of her, shaking her head with a grin. She slides the milkshake back to his hand, and says, “I really thought you were gonna be a writer.” She paused, tilting her head. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted to be?” </p><p>
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</p><p>She didn’t feel like pointing out the obvious shift between eighteen year old Bellamy and the Sheriff of Arkadia version of him as an adult, but she couldn’t deny that she had the urge to pass by any book store she passed to see if his name had been printed on the cover of any best sellers. He would never let her read his stories before, so she was intrigued by the idea at the time. </p><p>
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</p><p>She thought if she read one of his books, she would naturally feel closer to him. It never worked. </p><p>
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</p><p>“You remember that?” Bellamy looked up at her, trying not to smile at the memory. He’s been hopeful for years that she remembered him, any detail about him, and he was glad she did. “It was a really long time ago, and I guess things didn’t work out then.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“Do you still write?” </p><p>
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</p><p>Bellamy shook his head, and she felt sad for him. It was something he loved to do. </p><p>
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</p><p>Clarke shrugged, wanting to lighten the mood between them. She stands, taking off her fake alien antennas and placing it next to his hat. He’s looking at her weirdly now, taking notice of every little thing she does. </p><p>
  <strong>
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</p><p>He’s entranced by her, and it’s like she’s never left. She likes the feeling, so she embraces this moment. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Dance with me?” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Beat Of My Heart (part two)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The second part of my Roswell: New Mexico inspired fic, I hope y'all love it! I might do a full fic in the future.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bellamy scoffs in fake annoyance, and she’s reminded of the teasing game they would always play with the other. It was a game neither of them ever won, because they would never take the next step. If Clarke hadn’t left, then he would’ve taken that next step into something more. She’s spent years trying thinking about how she messed things up. </span>
</p>
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  <span>“Dance with no music?” He waves her off, going back to drinking his damn milkshake. That’s when Clarke realizes that the jukebox had gone silent, and she remembered her father telling her that some songs won’t play due to old mechanics<span>—</span>so she would have to play around with the playlist. </span>
</p>
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  <span>He was going to dance with her, no matter what. She could make him. </span>
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  <span>“If I fix the jukebox,” Clarke suggested, walking backwards towards the front of the diner to watch for his reaction. She wasn’t let down with his reaction, because he’s already standing to follow her. “Then, will you dance with me?” </span>
</p>
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  <span>She crosses her fingers like a child, holding them up so he could see how serious she is. </span>
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<p>It may of been<span> a bit much, but she didn't care, she was trying to convince herself that she didn't miss him. </span></p>
<p>
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  <span>Bellamy sighs, “I’ll even help you fix the damn thing.” </span>
</p>
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  <span>Clarke smiled in triumph, a sense of warmth filling her chest. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing, not when they seem to be living in this perfect bubble of banter and teasing grins. She didn’t want to say that she missed him terribly, because then she would force herself to explain why she left and didn’t come back after ten years. Sometimes, she still catches herself thinking of the day trip they took to the beach before graduation. </span>
  <span>It was the last good day she ever remembered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As she turns around to face the jukebox, the words of “<em>How kind of you, Sheriff</em>” die on the tip of her tongue as the front glass windows shatter abruptly. Clarke jumps in reaction, but she doesn’t know what to do. She can’t move. She isn’t stupid, so she knows that rocks don’t make a popping sound that reminds her of fireworks in the sky. </span>
</p>
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  <span>They were gunshots, and she could only register that two shots were fired before her ears went numb with shock. She could feel shards of glass fly past her face, some hitting the floor and scraping her ankles as she froze. </span>
</p>
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  <span>“Bellamy?” She calls out for him, turning around frantically. She’s met with the impact of his body against hers, hugging her to his chest with his hand cradling the back of her neck. </span>
</p>
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  <span>“Clarke, are you okay?” His voice was loud, she could tell by the way the veins in his neck were visible with her wild eyes darting around his face. “Clarke!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s able to reach for the collar of his uniform before her vision is blinded by pain that erupts in her entire body, and she could only gasp when she realizes what just happened. She didn’t move fast enough, her back still turned from the shooter as Bellamy held her. He didn’t have time to shield her from the window, and it was his fault that both of their lives would change forever after that night. </span>
</p>
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<hr/><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
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  <span>Clarke falls limp in his arms almost immediately, and Bellamy leads her to the ground as fast as he could. </span>
</p>
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  <span>“No, no, no.” He repeated, tears springing to his eyes as he unbuttoned Clarke’s flannel shirt to find blood soaking the material. The blood trails from a wound near her collarbone, too close to her heart than he would’ve liked, and he could feel himself start to cry. </span>
</p>
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  <span>“Come on, Clarke.” He pleads, trying to focus on something other than her warm blood on his hands and arms when he tries to locate the wound directly. “You have to keep breathing, do it for me.” </span>
</p>
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  <span>Bellamy checks her pulse, to find that she’s barely breathing. He had to do something or he would have to watch the girl he loved since he was six, die in his arms on the first day of their reunion after ten years. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hasn’t seen her in ten years, and Clarke Griffin was dying in his arms. </span>
</p>
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  <span>He thinks of his sister and Murphy. They were his family, and have been his only support system in his entire life. He thinks of how upset and furious they would be if he actually resorted to the last option that he could think of. </span>
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  <span>He’s never tried it before. He’s never tried to resurrect someone. But, as he cradles Clarke’s head to his chest and feels his shirt soak through with her blood with the realization that she had so much more to live for. Bellamy couldn’t save Josephine, so he would settle for this. </span>
</p>
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  <span>Clarke was too important to him. </span>
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  <span>“I’m not sorry, Octavia.” He mumbled under his breath, rolling up his sleeves and laying Clarke back down on the cold marble floor for the second time. His sister would have to understand why he’s doing this, and he gently presses his hand against Clarke’s wound. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bellamy takes a deep breath, channeling all of his emotions and strength into his hand, fingers, his entire body was on fire for Clarke. He hasn’t forced himself to try and resurrect someone in so long, he almost forgot the feeling. </span>
</p>
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  <span>His hand glows red against her skin, his energy and strength willing into her skin as it seeps out of his body and into her soul. He blanks out for a moment, as the feeling and his own yelling gets the best of him, and his bones ache with every passing moment. </span>
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  <span>“Clarke, I know you’re a fighter.” He grunted, his hand trembling against the wound as it began to close, feeling the single bullet drop to the floor. “You have to fight this last part of the battle for me, it’s almost done.” </span>
</p>
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  <span>Sweat trails across his brow, and he has to blink when it threatens to burn his eyes. He was so close to collapsing on the floor right beside her, out of pure exhaustion, but he had to keep going for Clarke. If she was fighting, then so would he. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once the wound fully closes, he pulls his hand back and is able to catch himself on his hands before losing balance and falling on his face. Breathing heavily, he presses his finger against Clarke’s pulse point and feels her steady pattern of breathing. </span>
</p>
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  <span>He smiles, reaching for the bar stool to try and find the ketchup bottle before she does more than just stir around on the floor. He finds it quickly, and opens the cap entirely so he could squeeze half the bottle onto her chest and pretend like his worst dreams hadn’t come true. </span>
</p>
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  <span>Bellamy throws the bottle over the counter, just as Clarke jumps up into his arms with total consciousness. </span>
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  <span>“Bellamy?” She grabs at his shoulders, pulling him close into a tight hug. She scoots herself so close into him that she’s practically sitting in his lap, and he doesn’t object. Both of them needed comfort right now. “I thought you…..Was I?” She rambled. “Did I g-get,” </span>
</p>
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  <span>“Shhh,” He coos in her ear, wanting to sooth her worry. He would gladly carry the burden with him forever, as long as she was safe. “It was just ketchup, see?” Bellamy paused, trying to come up with a quick lie of a story he could offer. “The shooter came in and you fell, so I just sprayed some ketchup on you so it would look like you were hurt.” </span>
</p>
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  <span>Clarke’s hand went to her chest, grazing fingertips over a sore spot on her collar. She had one question as she stared around the diner in wonder, “Is he gone?” </span>
</p>
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<p>
  <span>“Like he was never here,” Bellamy assured. His eyes followed her hand on where the wound once was, and he told her softly, “Don’t worry about that, okay? It’s nothing.” </span>
</p>
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<p>
  <span>“Why are you sweating? You look like you got beat up, Bellamy.” She tells him, her hand caressing the side of his face in worry as she tilts his head from side to side. </span>
</p>
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<p>
  <span>He didn’t tell her the truth then, but he tried to be as honest as he could. He knew he was most likely puffy, red and sweating like he just ran a marathon. If he was honest, his body felt like it was hanging onto life by a thread and if he moved too fast or didn’t call Octavia soon, he would collapse and blank out. </span>
</p>
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  <span>“I did what I had to do,” He says in a whisper, looking Clarke straight in the eyes so he could show her the admiration he had for her deep inside. It was a feeling that never disappeared, he realized. </span>
</p>
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  <span>“Should I get my dad?” She asks him, hand dropping to curl around his neck. </span>
</p>
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<p>
  <span>“Call the department first,” He told her assertively, using the stool again to stand on shaky legs. He helped Clarke up next, and he took a deep breath only to find that his vision was starting to blur again and he needed to get out as fast as possible. “I’ll call in the morning.” </span>
</p>
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  <span>He leaves the diner without looking back, and manages to find a small alleyway in between stores to fall into. He crumbles to his knees, applying pressure to his temples that were currently ringing like the loudest police sirens he’s ever heard. </span>
</p>
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  <span>Bellamy could feel bile rise in his throat, and before he lets himself lose all control, he tries to find Octavia in his mind. He tries to focus as best he could, trying to find her wavelength. </span>
</p>
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  <span>“I need you, O.” He groaned, his head pounding and heart thumping loudly in his chest. He’s losing too much energy. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I did something you might not like. I don’t feel--” </span>
</p>
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  <span>It wasn’t long before his sister’s voice was heard inside his head. </span>
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  <span>“I’m leaving now, you complete idiot.” She tried to tease, joke around, but she was worried about him. There’s a hint of concern in her voice that makes him smile before he gets sick and hunches over on the cement. “I was actually enjoying my night with Lincoln.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Octavia, I didn’t mean to,” He loses his train of thought quickly, sitting up and letting his back hit the brick wall behind him. He scrunches his nose because of the smell of trash beside him, “You’re going to hate me for this.” </span>
</p>
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  <span>“I already hate you.” </span>
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  <span>“I saved a human today,” Bellamy told her before his eyes dropped and before he knew it, he was passed out. </span>
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  <span>It was an unspoken rule that he established twenty years ago, when his foster grandmother was diagnosed with cancer and his siblings forced him to leave a human life alone. </span>
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  <span>She died a few days after the deal was made, and he’s felt horrible ever since. He was only a child then, and now he was an adult that just saved the life of his high school crush. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bellamy knew he was going to get reprimanded from Octavia and Murphy. They might hate him forever, or fight him, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. He was thinking about Clarke breathing normally before he closed his eyes, along with their conversation before things ultimately went wrong. </span>
</p>
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  <span>It was true. He’s explained to countless tourists that aliens don’t exist, and he’s always noticed the skepticism that Clarke had. </span>
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<p>
  <span>But, he never told anyone that he’s an alien himself. There’s only three living in Arkadia, and one of them was driving to pick him up only to yell at him for doing the impossible. Bellamy wasn’t human, but he would do anything for those he loved. Clarke was on the top of that list. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Nobody Compares To You (part one)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The first time he meets her, it was an accident. </p><p> </p><p>[Or, Bellarke meeting and being the best friends that they are on the Ark]</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bellamy wasn't a reckless boy. He was just counting his change from the market when a pretty girl with blonde hair walks into him and then it's the start of a beautiful friendship and hopefully something more.</p><p>Not that he was hoping it would be something more or anything. (plus a cute game of family tag in part two!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time he bumps into her, it was an accident. </p><p> </p><p>He was counting coins in the palm of his hand, oblivious to the life around him. The only thing running through his young mind was how fast he could get back to his mother who was always waiting for him by the door with his younger sister hiding under the floor. Bellamy sighs, putting the little bit of money deep into his front pocket. He was fifteen years old then, wishing for a better life for his family when all he should be worrying about is how he’ll make it to class the next morning. Wondering how he could defy the odds in an alternate life, where his sister wouldn’t be hidden to the world and his mother didn’t have to do unlawful acts - he may be shy of his pre teen years, but he knows what she does. - to provide for her kids. But, he knows it’s only a thought that he keeps pushing to the back of his mind because it’s something he won’t ever had. </p><p> </p><p>He’s a boy with broad shoulders, messy black curls that don’t do anything but fall onto his forehead with every move and his head was always turned down. He didn’t have a lot going for himself, caught between being a caretaker and no way to attend classes without the thought of his little sister being caught in the crossfire of authority and good morals. Basically, he looks down to avoid the unimpressed and pitiful gaze of the higher classmen who think they are so much better than him. Like they deserve more opportunities than a boy who struggles to keep his dreams afloat in a sea of negativity and poverty. They were right to think so, he thinks most of the time. It was unfair, but it was also his reality. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> His sad reality. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Bellamy walks faster, anxiety building as he hears more voices start to get louder around him and he can’t risk anyone getting a real look at who he is. The people from Walden are usually allowed to roam freely throughout the Ark, but it’s still frowned upon to interact with anyone from his class or anyone else. <em> The bottom of the barrel, that’s who he was </em> . He knows he should’ve looked up, even if it was just for a second, just as he turns the corner and is so close to escaping the place that he absolutely dreads because it was right in that moment where it’s so close he could taste it; he feels his body collide with a whirlwind of blonde hair and all eyes start to lock on him. <em> Oh no. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, <em> uh </em> -” Bellamy stuttered, he tries to steady himself on both feet before he gets a chance to look at who he bumped into. A girl turns around to face him after she stumbles lightly, and his words get caught in his throat because of how her blue eyes narrowed but widened when she realized how close they were. She was an arm’s length away from his chest, a few inches shorter than him and her blonde hair was so bright that it reminded him of the sun that fills his chest with warmth. It’s like she’s the source, “I didn’t mean to bump into you.” For supposedly being his age, her gaze was hard and daunting that he even fights himself on retreating. <em> Do the right thing, </em>his mother’s infamous motto ringing in his head. He matched her curious gaze, “I wasn’t looking.” </p><p> </p><p>She looks to her left, turning to a woman that was much older and tense at the situation in front of her—it was her mother, he thought—and the girl smiles. Her gaze returns to Bellamy, who is rocking back and forth on the heels of his old leather boots because he was still in the hallway outside the marketplace and this was the only exit, he couldn’t do anything. He feels drawn to her, but doesn’t push further. </p><p> </p><p>The girl’s eyes flicker from her mother to the boy, “It’s not a big deal.” </p><p> </p><p>He smiles in return, a small one that lifts the edges of his mouth upwards and a hint of his dimple shines through. He knows he has to ask but he dreads it, “I kind of have to get through you to leave.” His cheeks burn when nobody moves to let him through, “Sorry to bother you.” </p><p> </p><p>She gladly steps aside, and Bellamy notices when her mother grips at her arm with more intent than necessary when he starts to walk through, and he hates that he could notice any sudden reaction in strangers. It was a second nature, an instinct that won’t go away no matter how hard he tried; just like his fight or flight response, it makes his heart sink deeper into his chest when he takes notice of how people are intimidated by him. The realization of the high class being afraid of a young boy who just wants to get by in society, who wants to help his family any way he can even if he’s too young...it hurt more than anyone else would bother to know or understand. </p><p> </p><p>He checks his pockets one more time, and he finds that the few coins that settled in the bottom are still there - he takes a deep breath, feeling like he could breathe again when he’s far away from the girl he just met and embarrassed himself in front of - and for once, Bellamy appreciates his normality, he appreciates how he doesn’t pay enough mind to anyone but himself because it was who he was. He knows one thing, he doesn’t have any explanation for why his heart is still racing in his chest when he unlocks the front door to his small apartment. </p><p> </p><p>Without any clue as to why he was feeling this way, he tries not to think about it. He didn’t want to spare any thoughts for a girl with a stubborn mother who’s afraid of him, or how calm she seemed to be. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>As months go by, it’s like his memories of her blonde hair seemed to fade too. </p><p> </p><p>It’s the nights where he’s lonely, his sister’s soft whimpers turned to snores could be heard from the planks of wood beneath his bed when all he tries to do for six hours is block them out so he doesn’t have to hear her - it makes him stay wide awake. It was nights like those where he can’t find the heart in his body to drown out his sister’s existence because of the things she forced to do to survive, like hide under the floor. Bellamy wishes on every star in the endless sky outside his small window, that he could’ve been the one to be punished for being able to breathe and fill his lungs with air to show that he’s alive when he shouldn’t be. He wishes to take away her pain but it’s something he can’t take, fate reserving the pain he so desperately wants to feel in replacement of his sister who’s sound asleep in two blankets and her favorite stuffed animal. He remembers when she told him that she holds the toy close to her at night, only because he couldn’t physically be there. </p><p> </p><p>It makes him feel horrible, a wrenching twist in his chest when he realizes that as a big brother he couldn’t do anything because he runs the risk of getting caught in the middle of the night by members of the council who could come and inspect Walden residents at any given time. He’s sixteen now, his birthday a few weeks prior, and he would give up his life or happiness to those he cared about. A young boy who’s willing to risk it all to give others a chance to feel what he also craves but doesn’t deserve in his eyes, but everything he did - it was for his sister and his mother. </p><p> </p><p>It was nights like <em> those </em> , where he holds his blanket close to his body and tosses and turns in his small bed with a thin mattress to try and distract himself and he sees her when his eyes shut closed. A ray of bright light, a sudden flash of yellow in his mind, and he lets her blue eyes that were kind and strong stay in his mind on replay. It’s who she was for him, a stranger who he met months ago and would probably never see again….but she was <em> bright </em>. She was leading him out of the darkness that consumed his thoughts, and he’s starting to forget her. When he thinks of her face, he just has to smile because he never thought a girl would even look in his direction when he does something wrong, but she did. As the months pass, he tries to think about her more often, about what she looked like so he could keep her image vivid in his brain - but there comes a time where he can’t picture her blonde hair in front of him. Bellamy’s mind runs out of paint, so he gives up. Something he does often. </p><p> </p><p>He starts to wonder if meeting this girl was an accident or the best thing to ever happen to him. </p>
<hr/><p>“Tell me about her,” His mother says, closing the door behind her as Bellamy sets the food on the table; it wasn’t enough to be a feast, but it was a variety of fruit and a few slices of meat and he was okay with that. “I’ve never seen you look at a girl like that, Bell.” </p><p> </p><p>“She’s just a girl, mom.” He tries to play it off, but he can’t stop the smile from growing on his face when he realizes that he had just seen her again. It’s been months, and he finally saw the golden hair that he had been wanting to see in person for such a long time and how it swayed on her shoulders as she walked. <em> It was her </em> . He shrugs his shoulders, “I bumped into a few months ago and I haven’t seen her since.” His mother doesn’t buy his excuse, she leans into the hand on her lip and she scoffs at her son - “Fine, I’ve been hoping to see her again.” He pauses to let his mother reach over the table to grab the bag with the groceries, and he could feel the urge to just - “Are you happy <em> now </em>? I thought you wanted me to talk about her, mom.” </p><p> </p><p>Bellamy didn’t get it, was he saying the wrong things? </p><p> </p><p>“I just wanted to know who has you so happy.” She argues, smiling at her son as she reaches for the latch of the wooden plank and pulls upright so that his sister can come out. Her arms were the first thing he sees, and Bellamy helps her up. “That’s all.” The grin on her face just gets wider and it doesn’t help Bellamy calm down the warmth that wants to spread through his body. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t even know her like that,” He says, shrugging before he lets his sister jump into his arms and he engulfs her in a warm hug. He waits a few seconds, “I’ve seen her a few times.” </p><p> </p><p>Bellamy wants to play it off like it was nothing, but he keeps replaying the way her blonde hair seemed to sway to the air coming from the vents in the hallways and he isn’t even sure if he wants to degrade his own emotions. </p><p> </p><p>His sister’s head tilts up, her chin against his chest and she can’t help but ask - “Is she pretty?” </p><p> </p><p>His mother speaks first, “The most precious.” </p><p> </p><p>Bellamy shakes his head as both arms stay wrapped around his sister, someone who means the world to him and he wonders if thinking about anyone else but his family makes him selfish. </p><p>Is he supposed to feel bad? He doesn’t lie, he can’t lie to his sister - not when it’s a harmless confession to probably, one of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen. Harmless? He questions himself in that moment, it feels like a weight on his shoulders. Bellamy doesn’t keep them waiting any longer, “She’s <em> so </em> pretty, O, and-” He decides to glare at his mother with a playful tone, he thinks he won’t able to respond since words get stuck in his throat and he can’t believe he said she was pretty. <em> Out loud </em> . He dismisses the fact, “She <em> means </em> nothing, I swear she was just someone that was familiar.” </p><p> </p><p>His sister’s face lights up with her question being answered and it makes his heart swell, he just hoped it was enough to overturn the ache he feels when he lies. It’s something he doesn’t do often, and definitely not to his family, but the blonde haired girl can’t mean nothing to him when all he could replay in his mind is what would’ve happened if she turned around to face him like the first time. Or how just one look of the excitement on her face as she navigated through the marketplace with her mother; touching apples, admiring berries, and asking every vendor to take one of everything, made Bellamy feel it too. </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?.” She says, trying to grasp at her scarf that has for the most part, fell off one side of her shoulder. It got caught on Bellamy’s key ring as they walked in opposite directions, and just like the first time she saw him, she gets pulled back. She gets one look at his face when he’s done untangling the thread from her scarf out of his keys. It was his fault for not tightening the clasp on the bulk of keys that hangs, because he wouldn't dare accuse her of her scarf being too long. “It is you.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Her disbelief written on his face, if it was possible, and yet he still finds some words say when his heart is beating fast. “You’re the girl who I bumped into at the market?” - He’s seen her around, but she never seemed to notice him and he tried to ignore the sting of realizations. “Talk about awkward reunions, huh?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She laughs, fixing her scarf with a sigh and wrapping it around her neck again. “You call this a reunion? We've spoken once.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You proved me right.” Bellamy smiled, “It’s the fact that we’ve met before. Therefore it’s a reunion.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Her eyes trail to the way a few curls fall onto his forehead, but she doesn’t let herself stare for long because it would be weird. He was funny, she liked the conversation and didn’t want to ruin the moment with admitting he was cute. No way.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She looks at the reason as to why she connected paths with the boy, and she gestures with her hands, “A key ring?” she questioned, “What’s it for, if you don’t mind me asking.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’m a guard in my sector,” Bellamy smiled, allowing himself to feel some pride in the fact that he has a job. “I actually just got promoted a few days ago.” With those words, he checks one more time that his key ring is secured on his belt loop and finds Clarke’s soft eyes again.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Her smile was genuine. “That’s great, congrats.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bellamy thinks for a second, wondering if he should say what he was actually thinking. To tell her that she didn’t need to fake her emotions towards him, but he knew he would be telling a lie.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Maybe it was the insecurity that came with not having many friends, or a shoulder to lean on when he needs one, but Bellamy takes her word and embraces the feeling.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Thanks,” Bellamy bites the inside of his cheek. He’s never been praised for something before, afraid to say more than he thinks is necessary but he suddenly remembers why he came to the Phoenix corridor. He had a job to do, and a shift to clock in. He tilts his head, curious to see how far he could get with Clarke. “I’ll see you around? I’ll be coming here more often, you know,” He paused, cheeks heating up and he rubs the back of his neck. He just had to get flustered, didn’t he? “Incase you would wanna see me.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He would be able to roam these halls without judgement, it was what gave him confidence in this moment. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clarke tugs at the ends of her sleeves, her shirt was bright green and had a popped collar that matched his style of uniform. Silence filled between them, but only for a second-Bellamy was grateful because he hates to feel uncomfortable-because Clarke gently nods her head in his direction.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Her eyes scan for a name tag, and when she finds it, “I’ll see you around Bellamy.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Her blue eyes stared into his, and Bellamy really likes the way she says his name as he found it hard to breathe.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She wants to see him again?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He tries to hide his grin from growing by looking to the side at the metal wall, he ends up laughing. It was a surprise, “Till next time.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clarke nods firmly, and he could feel her gaze on his back even after he turns and walks in the opposite direction.  </em>
  <em>Nothing could ruin his mood. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>"You under-estimate our friendship if you think I was going to show up here empty handed," Clarke teased him as the door opens wide, as she holds a ceramic plate of sponge cake in her hands. She leaned against the door frame, oblivious to the danger of getting caught in Walden. He’s warned her before, but Bellamy had no say in what she did and he couldn't ignore the swell of appreciation in his heart from seeing her. </p><p> </p><p>He hadn't seen her in a few days, knowing her shifts in medical were getting extensive as her training was getting more serious. She was going to be a great doctor someday, he knew it. </p><p> </p><p>And he'd be right by her side. </p><p> </p><p>It's what best friends do. </p><p> </p><p>"How did you manage to get that?" Bellamy whispered, awe in his voice. He hadn't had anything so sweet in a long time, so he takes the cake from her hands and narrows his eyes at the blonde. "<em>Please</em> don't tell me you spent your rations on me, Clarke" </p><p> </p><p>"It's your birthday, Bell." She reasons, letting herself inside the apartment and Bellamy shuts the door. "I had to do something for you, because I have to compete with the gifts you get." </p><p> </p><p>"What <em>gifts</em> do I get, Griffin?" He leaned against the small kitchen sink, breaking a piece of his cake and putting it in his mouth. He tries to talk while chewing, wanting the banter between them to continue because it was so easy to talk to her. "Cause you're the only one so far." </p><p> </p><p>"Raven has been staying quiet about what she got you," Clarke huffs as she pulls on the latch under the dining table to see if Octavia was sleeping, and when she realizes that the younger girl was asleep and snoring lightly, she closed the latch quietly after sneaking something inside. She tries to disregard the frown on her face, or the discomfort with knowing that her friend has to sleep under the floor—Bellamy couldn't tell which was bothering her. </p><p> </p><p>He cleared his throat, breaking off another piece of his cake and holding it out to Clarke. </p><p> </p><p>He refused to think about Octavia's situation right now, because it would hurt the both of them. </p><p> </p><p>"I don't think she could top this," Bellamy admitted softly, noticing how she took the cake and took more time to finish it unlike him. "You got me a cake, Clarke." </p><p> </p><p>He smiled down at her, knowing the truth of why he was struggling to accept her birthday present. No one had ever spent their rations, their time and energy to get him something that would make him feel this good about himself. Clarke surprises him, ducking under his plate and wrapping her arms around his torso and pulling herself to his chest in a tight embrace. </p><p> </p><p>Bellamy sighs, more out of instant serenity washing over him than anything else-and wraps a single arm around her waist to keep her steady. </p><p> </p><p>If he was lucky...</p><p> </p><p>"Happy 18th, Bellamy." Clarke was gentle, voice muffled against his chest. If her hair wasn't always in a braid nowadays, his fingers would be running through her blonde waves swiftly until they felt comfortable in each other's arms. (Which happened too fast for his liking, he could hold her forever)</p><p> </p><p>If he had the courage...</p><p> </p><p>He would say what he's been dying to say for two years. But he doesn't, instead rests his head on top of Clarke's and takes a deep breath. </p><p> </p><p>There was no one else he'd rather spend his night with. </p><p> </p><p>"It's the best one I've had." He said softly. </p><p> </p><p>And he wasn't saying it to please her efforts, or this sponge cake, because he was telling the truth. </p><p>         </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Nobody Compares To You (part two)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"I don't know why you picked this spot," Clarke told him, wide eyed. "It's the least stable." </p><p>"Well, if someone didn't follow me and choose the same spot then," He argued, but he wasn't angry with her at all. He tugs on his t-shirt, when he leans sideways to keep the weight between them and the skin above his hip gets exposed. She tries not to look, "We wouldn't have a problem with my couch about to break in half."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke sits back in Bellamy’s cot, taking a moment to let the scene in front of her sink in. </p><p> </p><p>It was a routine, has been for over a year since they became friends. To show up to his apartment in the middle of the night  and spend hours talking to him. </p><p> </p><p>(Which leads to her sneaking out of her own apartment every chance she could get, therefore she’s gotten better at it.) </p><p> </p><p>Unlike Bellamy’s birthday a few weeks ago, she did show up to his place empty handed. Clarke usually doesn’t feel guilty about it, but when Bellamy only opens the door a fraction wide to let her inside late into the night; she knows why. It was because he was letting Octavia roam around the room freely, and he couldn’t risk either girl getting caught. </p><p> </p><p>She’s been at his place for over an hour and her heart is close to beating out of her chest if she looks at Bellamy being so carefree with his sister. It was so precious. She couldn’t help herself so she sit back, waiting for the perfect moment to include herself into the whirl of things. </p><p> </p><p>Bellamy may be her closest friend, but his younger sister meant so much to Clarke as well. It was why she placed pieces of candy in her bunk when she couldn’t stay awake to talk, and why she always tries to include her in their conversations. </p><p> </p><p>But, she also knew how important sibling time was to the two of them—so Clarke pulls Bellamy’s blanket over her legs and lets her back hit the wall. </p><p> </p><p>“Clarke, why don’t you play with us?” </p><p> </p><p>It was Octavia, who’s smile was wide and directed at her friend as she shoved her older brother away. Bellamy had bit his lips, trying to keep his grin from spreading and that’s when Clarke realizes that they were talking before. It was too bad that she zoned out, she would’ve loved to laugh along with them. </p><p> </p><p>“It depends, what game am I going to beat you both at?” She teased. </p><p> </p><p>“Confident, much?” Bellamy tilts his head at her, and reaches for his sister to pull her back to him. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a glint in his eyes when they lock gazes, and Clarke feels the words get stuck in her throat. Why did she feel so much for him? They were best friends, nothing more. Right? </p><p> </p><p>Clarke peels the blanket away from her legs, feeling no different as the breeze in the room grazes her ankles that are exposed from her sweatpants. She scoots forward, letting her feet dangle at the edge until they hit the floor. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Very</em>,” She spoke to Bellamy. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Octavia laughs, and nudges Clarke’s knee for emphasis on how she found it funny. </p><p> </p><p>The younger girl swoops her hair to one side, her face turning serious as she switches gazes to her brother and her friend. “It’s a game called ‘Lava’, where there’s a designated space in the room where you can’t touch or step in,” She makes a point to do air quotes around the main focus for the game. “So those spaces are <em>Lava</em>, and you could step anywhere else. As the game goes on, the area gets smaller and smaller.” </p><p> </p><p>“We could wake mom up, O.” Bellamy warns her, but he’s already standing to push his chair under the dining table. </p><p> </p><p><em>The things he does for his family</em>. </p><p> </p><p>It amazes Clarke, and leaves her a bit breathless. It’s something she adores about him. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s worth the risk,” Octavia jumped up and walked to Clarke so that she could get pulled to her feet. How could either of them say <em>no</em> to her? It was times like these where she’ll remember them forever, she would cherish these moments where she gets to be a young teenager. “So are you guys ready to play?” </p><p> </p><p>Bellamy rolls up his sleeves, and Clarke bumps his hip her own and he makes a face— “It’s a game, not a fight Bellamy.” </p><p> </p><p>The corners of his lips turn upwards into a smirk, he shakes the curls that hang too far on his forehead and lets his brown eyes bore into Clarke’s blue ones. </p><p> </p><p>Only for a moment. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m trying to win,” Bellamy says and it makes Clarke roll her eyes. It was playful, because of course he would act competitive in front of his sister. </p><p> </p><p><em>Two could play at that game</em>. She thinks to herself. </p><p> </p><p>(Although, they both know that it’s no coincidence that they Octavia is the last person standing in the middle of the room) If there was a time where the clock freezes, where she’s clouded by only one thing; Clarke was sure that it happened to her half way through playing this <em>Lava</em> game with Octavia. </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The game was getting intense, as they already excluded the kitchen counter and dining table in the far corner of the room—leaving the sofa and chairs open to walk on. </p><p> </p><p>Octavia had found a safe haven on a single dining room chair, as she sat with her legs pulled to her chest. Bellamy was comfortable, as best he could with standing (and also wobbling back and forth because he couldn't keep his balance, which made the two girls laugh) on the small couch in the middle of the room while Clarke copied him with less of a struggle. </p><p> </p><p>"It's really not fair," Bellamy complains, arms extending out to try and maintain his balance. He was trying not to laugh himself, but it also wasn't his fault that the Walden sector got the poorly made furniture and their combined weight was making the frame of the couch creak and squeak. "I'm heavier than you, Clarke." </p><p> </p><p>"I don't know why you picked this spot," Clarke told him, wide eyed. "It's the least stable." </p><p> </p><p>"Well, if someone didn't follow me and choose the same spot then," He argued, but he wasn't angry with her at all. He tugs on his t-shirt, when he leans sideways to keep the weight between them and the skin above his hip gets exposed. She tries not to look, "We wouldn't have a problem with my couch about to break in half." </p><p> </p><p>Then, he's giving her that smile that she adores so much and she feels herself start to lose the entire game in front of her own eyes. She was usually competitive, would be trying to push him off the couch or point at his chest to make him lose focus and fall, but she was getting lost in his eyes and the way he was looking at her. Bellamy gives her a puzzled look, head tilted after letting out a soft chuckle at the sight of a smile growing across her lips and she couldn't do it anymore. </p><p> </p><p>She steps forward mindlessly, wanting to be closer to him.</p><p> </p><p>Clarke feels the couch dip under the added weight on Bellamy's side, and she doesn't start to worry until Bellamy wobbles even more and his brows furrow with determination to keep him stable. She grabs at his arm, pulling him steady and lets her hand linger on his wrist. </p><p> </p><p>"Be careful," She says softly, and he looks down at her with the most adoration she's ever received from him. His gaze is gentle, adjusting to the sudden balance he says while holding Clarke. </p><p> </p><p>"We should get off the couch," He whispered, bringing them both out of the moment they shared. "Before it actually breaks." </p><p> </p><p>Bellamy takes her hand as they step off the couch carefully, bare feet touching the cold metal floor making them both jump a little. They look at Octavia, who's smiling so big that it makes Clarke's heart ache, and that's when she realizes <em>why</em>. He hasn't let go from their intertwined hands, and he ends up rubbing small circles in the back of her palm when he notices his sister's stare. </p><p> </p><p>'I won!" The younger Blake exclaimed, jumping off the chair with her hands raised in success. </p><p> </p><p>Bellamy leans closer to whisper in Clarke's ear, "We let her win, <em>again</em>." </p><p> </p><p>Clarke hoped he didn't feel her shiver when he did that, because it would've been embarrassing. </p><p> </p><p>"It's worth it to see her smile." She says in reply. </p><p> </p><p>When Octavia walks towards them for a group hug, Bellamy cradles the back of his sister's head as he leans down to press a light kiss on Clarke's forehead. </p><p> </p><p>It's when they all knew something they would remember forever. They would be <em>family</em> forever, and nothing could change the sense of belonging they all felt in each other's arms. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A little headcannon with some angst and Bellamy finally saying he can't live without Clarke (post season six)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Don’t go.” Bellamy pleads as he grips onto Clarke’s arm and his eyes filling with tears. “Please, you don’t have to do what’s right all the time.” </p><p><br/>It breaks him inside. </p><p><br/>Clarke was crying, tear streaks down her face as Gabriel stood in front of the anomaly. They were the only two people left, it’s what she needed to do to get better. To heal. It would keep her people protected, it would keep Bellamy safe. </p><p><br/>“I have to,” Clarke reasoned, her voice barely above a whisper as she reached to caress his cheek. “It’ll fix me, I cant live with Josephine inside my head forever.” </p><p><br/>“I need you, Clarke.” Bellamy choked out his words, emotions too high to control. “I need you so bad, I want you to be here with me.” </p><p><br/>“You’ll live.” She reminded him. “You did it before” </p><p><br/>Clarke went to move past him, to walk towards Gabriel with a limp because her last seizure almost took her out completely. Yet, Bellamy’s hold is tight and when he pulls her back to him, his face is so close to hers and she could feel her entire body freeze when their breaths mingle. </p><p><br/>“I didn’t want to, I never wanted to do this by myself.” Bellamy looked her straight in the eyes. “Now that I have a choice, a chance to tell you that I cant live without you.” His hands were shaking, as they cupped her face in his hands. “What can I do? To make you stay.” </p><p><br/>“I cant, Bellamy.” </p><p><br/>“Stay with me,” He begged. And suddenly he leans in, their lips touching as he mumbled softly. “Please.” </p><p><br/>She can’t ask the impossible. She won’t. </p><p> </p><p>Clarke starts to sob, so she pulls herself away. Hands firm against his chest, “I’m not asking you,” just to give him a chance to back away and think somewhat reasonably.</p><p> </p><p>“You aren’t asking something that I won't say no to, Clarke.” Bellamy states and he has the nerve to smile down at her. “I’m going with you.” </p><p> </p><p>“You have your friends, your <em>family</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re my <em>person</em>.” He pressed a firm kiss on her lips, not expecting their first kiss to ever be like this. “If going in there will fix you, heal you from the aftermath of Josephine. I’m coming with you, because we do things together.” </p>
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